Fall of the Mountain
by LordOfTheMountainHold
Summary: Eregion has been invaded. Four figure stand to try and ebb the flow of a relentless enemy. Will they be victorious or will Eregion fall before their very eyes?


CHAPTER ONE: A BLOOD DAWN

The sun rose on yet another day of carnage in the war-torn realms of Eregion. A hundred thousand corpses lay mutilated in the rocky draws at the base of Argent Dé Fael, the silver mountain. The battle had been long and bloody, the rich loam that skirted the mountain was turned into a thick black mud by the awesome quantity of blood spilt. New-born craters littered the landscape, many still smoking from the violent explosions that had rocked the mountain to its very core. Amidst the wreckage lay broken swords, bows, arrows, the list rolls on. From a stoney outcrop two figures stood silhouetted in the ashen sunrise.  
>Delan Sunaki, lord of the mountain hold, stood looking out over the broken horde of dead and dying Moragii invaders. He surveyed the waste with an eerie calmness in the aftermath of battle. The whole of the vast mountain range of Al-Ilum was cast in a fittingly red sunrise. To Delan's honed senses the land very nearly spoke to him with the untold horrors of the Moragii's relentless assault. The attack had been well planned, of the three holds attacked only Argent Dé Fael still held out. Nearly two-hundred Milae to his east lay the sprawling mithril mines of Morian. They held out valiantly, only to be over taken by the shear numbers of the blood thirsty invaders. Three-hundred and fifty Milae to his west lay the antiquated stronghold of Paelia. Unfortunately the crumbling walls were no match for the Moragii's brutal bombardment. Needless to say, none lived to tell of the ordeal.<br>Delan turned to the pale woman beside him and sighed.  
>"Aikawa, shall Eregion ever see peace?" He asked with a certain sadness that indicated he did not think such a thing was possible anymore. Aikawa answered him after a deathly silence.<br>"Selan Milo, selan. All is not lost. The land still belongs to the Miyallae. Peace is not impossible."  
>"You may be right, but in these times one is not so sure." Delan answered slowly. They turned and followed a winding path down into the mountain. The twisting halls were filled with the labors of repairing the days damage. Along the spiraling passageways were vast caverns and rooms, some filled with strange treasures, others filled by nothing more than a spectral mist. Living quarters intermittently broke the curious monotony of storage. One of them belonged to Delan and Aikawa. It was their little sanctuary in the dark. The meager furnishing told of many years of habitation by the couple. Many memories were etched into the walls by the passing of time, some happy, some sad. It was here that their children were born, and where the occasional soul passed into Valthaen. Delan, weary from the long morning, let his mind roam to distant fields and ages long gone. His wandering eye fell on Aikawa's slender frame. Ebony hair was offset by pale white skin. He let his gaze continue its age-accustomed view. Her hair fell freely over small shoulders and traced the curves down to the middle of her back. Delan chuckled gentle to himself content in the knowledge that she was his and he was hers. Who was the master in the equation? He didn't care, and neither did she for that matter. Aikawa turned and caught his eye, just as she had done so many times. Her wry smile told him all he needed to know. They met in the middle nearly in the longed for embrace, when a messenger knocked on the door. They both laughed, knowing that they would have their fun later. Delan spoke.<br>"Report!"  
>The messenger, a young boy noted for his swift agility which may have aided him in securing his job, stood before the pair and told Delan that the inventory was complete and awaiting his inspection. The lower guns were in desperate need of repair to their firing mechanisms, they had fired so many shells that the heat of the repetitive shots had fused the inner workings together. The armory was nearly depleted of both ball and shot for the behemoths. The upper level artillery was, while badly damaged, still functional. Finally, the dragon riders were nearly ready for immediate redeployment to seek survivors in the other holds.<br>It was a long moment before Delan gave his answer to the lad. He carefully weighed his rapidly dwindling options to try and find the best path for his people and to try and bring this century-old bloodbath to a culminating head.  
>"Very well lad. Selan alta sarthelya. Go and return to your post. No! Wait, belay that, you've earned your rest, go home and rest for today, tomorrow there will be much need of you." The boy was shocked by Delan's generous offer, needless to say he accepted readily.<br>"Of course Milo, selan alta sarthelya." And at that he took off as a shell from a cannon. Delan turned back to Aikawa.  
>"Well, my love, it looks as if we'll have to find time to play later. Come, we have work to do." Aikawa replied with that same sly grin that had captured Delan so many years ago.<br>"Most certainly, Milo. Lets not leave them waiting for us."  
>"You are trouble my dear, you know that?" She laughed, a soft sound that warmed Delans' heart to hear. It had been too long since he had last heard that sound.<p>

In the bowels of the mountain, something stirred. A darkness thought long dead opened its eyes in the depths of the ebony shadows. Somewhere between life and death the monster stood erect. Faint vestiges of memory flowed into his long undead mind. Memories of moonlight hunts on the plains of Altama, the blood of innocents feeding his hunger. He smiled, the parted to reveal his curiously white fangs. It was true he was a vampire but not so foolish as to try and feed on every soul that so happened to cross his path. After all thats no way for a gentleman to act now is it? His name he struggled to recall, but with each passing breath he regained more and more of his fragmentary mind. Then it came to him, sliding silently through the pitch of the night. Tamorae, that was it, Tamorae Miyalne. He was the last of his kind, at least to his knowledge.  
>He stood and looked about him, his night eyes seeing clearly in the obsidian void that surrounded him. Seeing a possible way out of this stony prison he began to walk along a faint path that seemed to lead upward. He did not know the year or how long he had lain in the caves, hell for what it was worth he didn't even know where he was. But he didn't care, he just knew he was free. And that was all that mattered.<p>

Off on the plains of Altama, a young girl wandered alone through the gore-soaked wreckage of a new-founded battlefield. She was looking for anything that might be of use or value to her. The day had proved fruitful so far. A handful of silver here, a pinch of gold there, assorted arms and munitions, the mammoth shells for the now twisted artillery pieces, et cetera. Her pack was nearly bursting at the seams from todays bounty, yet she continued her methodical hunt. What she was looking for, she hadn't the slightest clue. Only that she would know it when she found it.  
>In her twenty years away from home, she had perfected the art of the hunt. None escaped her be it man, mer, or amale. Saralye allowed herself a smile. An black billowing cloud passed over the sun. The sudden shift in light made her stop and scrutinize her present surroundings. Off in the distance she could make out the smoke on the mountains where her mother and father were. Even at this distance she could see the majestic spires of Argent Dé Fael, her ancestral birthplace. Saralye Sunaki spoke softly to herself, little more than a breath, but in the silence of the plains she may have well shouted.<br>"I think its been far too long since I was last home. Maemi, Paepi I'm coming home. This time its to stay." And at that she took off at an easy pace towards the now smoldering mountains of Al-Ilum, and to the crown of Eregion itself. A few milae into her journey home, some game presented itself. Saralye was quick on the draw of her ashen long bow. She took a breath and steadied her aim. Slender fingers loosed the taut string and sent the arrow flying toward its mark. It goes without saying that it found its target.  
>Collecting her harvest, she resumed her trek across increasingly rugged terrain. Since she had started her journey home at noon, she had covered approximately fifty milae. Seeing a small cluster of trees, and noting the dwindling light, she stopped and made her camp for the night. The black of night moved swiftly, Saralye had barely begun to make a small fire to cook todays game when the ebony darkness set itself firmly on the nearly barren plains. The nocturnal movements were nearly second nature to Saralye, so when she felt a distinct disturbance in the otherwise peaceful void, she was automatically on alert. Her hand found its way around the hilt of her sword, ready to be utilized in her defense. After tense moments of waiting and nothing happening she relaxed slightly, still ready to deal what ever threat may present itself. None materialized, but the long night was spent on a razors edge.<br>Normally one to avoid the direct light of day, Saralye welcomed the dawn with open arms. She smiled as the early light played amongst the little foliage on the plains. The gentle warmth touched her stark white skin and eventually found its way across the land that stretched for milae before her. The rise of the sun also brought forth a light breeze. It seemed to urge her onward as she made for the still distant mountains. As the day wore on the mountains loomed ever taller as she approached. Soon the land became more and more rugged as Saralye neared the rolling foothills. There was a small mountain pass that would lead to the main gates of Argent De Fael that started at the base of the mountains. It was this path that Saralye was searching for as dusk neared. Soon the cool night was set in the rocky crags at the base of the towering walls of granite. Seeing that she could make no further headway today, she made her camp for the night.  
>Dawn brought with it renewed vigor for Saralye. She worked quickly in the draws, looking for the antiquated path to the mountain hold of Argent De Fael. It was soon located in a small valley littered with the remains of wars long forgotten. A rusted blade here, a shell crater there, old bones over there. The path was faint, it was quite evident to Saralye's attuned senses that it had not been used for aeons. Setting her resolve, she began the arduous assent up the mountain. Gentle slopes gave way to ever steeper ones, steep slopes turned to cliff faces. Soon she found herself scaling near vertical walls of rock. The path was rough, but she was making progress. There were already signs of habitation etched into the stone. By her estimation she should reach the main gate by nightfall. Taking a breath, she continued her climb.<p>

Delan was hunched over a table. His skilled hand manipulating the pen to finalize his latest contraption. If it could be feasibly carried out, it would dwarf all other machimelya. The only conceivable problem was providing sufficient power and torque to the main drive gears. Nevertheless, he continued to draw out his monstrous juggernaut of war.  
>Aikawa was fast asleep in the bed behind him. The day had been especially trying on her. There had been artillery that needed repairs desperately, and Aikawa, besides Delan, was the only one who could manipulate the mechanism back into working order. She also had to help oversee the implementation of a dedicated artillery supply team. She had had to show the younger ones how the complex machines were loaded, aimed, and fired. All this she had to do by herself. Delan had been preoccupied with helping the others repair the labyrinth network of corridors that fed the holds defensive array.<br>Both were tired from the long day, yet they still somehow found some time to dedicate to each other. It had been months since that had last had time to themselves so when the chance came they both jumped at it. Afterwards, Aikawa lay down to rest. Delan, being something of an insomniac, sat at the drafting board and conceived a sea of gears, levers, and pulleys to power a juggernaut the likes of which had never been seen before. If constructed, it could very well be the crucial piece that the Miyallae needed to win this conflict. His silent reprieve was broken by a knock on the ancient oaken door. "Milo, I hold news from the main gates!" The messenger said breathlessly.  
>"What is it! Another attack? No, it can't be it's too soon for a follow up. Well come on man out with it!" Delan said hurriedly.<br>"Milo, your daughter Saralye has come home!" Delan staggered into a nearby chair. It had been twenty years since he had last seen Saralye. When she left she had swore that she would never return to the mountain caves that had been her birthplace and childhood home. The news of her return shocked him to the core. It was a long moment before he spoke again.  
>"Well, what are we waiting for? Come bring me to her." The messenger nodded assent and led Delan through the winding halls. Along the route they passed spires of twisted ruby and obsidian that gave the evening a somewhat melancholy mood. It was about half an hour before the pair arrived at where Saralye stood waiting. Each was overjoyed to see the other. It was Saralye that broke the deafening silence and closed the small gap between herself and Delan.<br>"Paepi!" She said as she rushed towards him. Delan was momentarily frozen as the realization finally hit home. Saralye was home. For years he had thought of this day, hoping for but never really expecting it to happen. Eventually he managed to speak.  
>"Saralye, my how you've grown! You remind me of your mother more and more. Goodness I'm glad your home, but I must ask why?" Delan fired off in rapid staccato fashion. Saralye just laughed.<br>"Paepi, calm down, I'm home and I'm here to stay this time." Delan looked at her with a soft smile, a rare expression for him in these troubled times. He spoke after a few moments.  
>"Come Saralye, your mother will be dying to see you after all these years." And at that they set off back down the spiraling corridors that comprised Argent De Fael. Saralye noted that, in her absence, the mountain hold had acquired a solemn note that she didn't remember from her youth. It seemed as if even the mountain was aware of the consequences of a successful Moragii invasion. Saralye shuddered to think of it.<br>Aikawa met the pair at the door. She had awoken and found Delan to be missing so she had started to go looking for him when the duo very nearly ran her over. Aikawa looked from Delan to Saralye and back before she took Saralye in her arms.  
>"Saralye! I can't believe its actually you! But last time you left you said you weren't ever coming back, but yet here you are! Just one question, why?"<br>"Maemi! Paepi! Slow down a bit and give me some time to speak. After all my years away, I guess that theres a void that only home can fill. Besides I don't think I'm of much use picking through the smoldering remnants of battle fields. Ever looking for that one thing that would make the perpetual isolation worth while. At this point I don't think I'll find my answers in the echoes of the rolling aeons." Saralye replied. Her tone, though warm, was distant and thoughtful. Delan gazed absently into the shadows of the cavern lost in though. His mind was working in overdrive. Calculations and solutions flowed through the vast seas of thought, every now and then sparking a tidal wave of possibilities to be explored. 


End file.
